How to build Sandcastles
by eyrianone
Summary: With no quest and no job there is still a summer to fill, for Kate Beckett that means everything right now is just . . . Castle. Expect snippets of a summer – of a relationship evolving – and a love growing confident.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **How to build Sandcastles.

**Author: **eyrianone

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **With no quest and no job there is still a summer to fill, and for Kate Beckett that means that everything right now is just . . . _Castle._

**Disclaimer: **(From ViaLethe) – 'Words are mine. World ain't.'

**A/N: Expect snippets of a summer – of a relationship evolving – and a love growing confident.**

* * *

_All we need is the truth in our hand._

_Someone to call a friend._

_Never fear the darkness. _

_All we need is just the sun in the sky, and the hope_

_of a summer to come with the meaning of love._

'_Unknown'._

* * *

**Chapter One: **Telling Jim.

* * *

It's the first time she's actually left Castle's loft in the two days they've officially been 'together', and if the truth be told – Kate already misses him and he's been out her sight for about twenty minutes tops.

She's pathetic, just insanely, pathetically in love with him.

And Kate Beckett is inwardly amazed at how little she cares that he's finally dislodged everything else and set up residence at the center of her world.

Because she's truthfully, hand on her repaired-heart, tell no lies, never been so walking-on-air happy in her entire life. Never.

_How is it possible to feel like this? So totally . . . alive._

And on the one hand she's just so bliss-ed out that everything in the world seems like its completely perfect, and on the other she is under no illusions that some of her realities have yet to fully sink in.

Like unemployment.

Like the end - no, not the end – the cessation, the conscious and deliberate ceasing of a life-quest.

It should freak her out – it really, really should – and it would have in the past - but now she can't seem to get there. There is no panic, no anxiety, instead there is just . . .

_Castle. Everything right now is just . . . Castle._

She can close her eyes and picture him above her, his handsome features painted first with happiness, and then twisting into ecstasy that she's put there. She's sore in certain places that haven't seen action in a year and have suddenly gotten more attention in the last forty-eight hours than should physically be possible.

She can't stop the words 'I love you Castle' from spinning through her mind on perpetual replay and then falling out her of mouth every single time they come together.

And she's going to tell her father about them today – that they're an item – finally. Because her joy in this – it's too big to keep it in and she knows even though he's never said too much about it that her father has always secretly been rooting for her and Rick.

So Beckett's glad she has some good news for him today – because she honestly doesn't know what he'll think about the rest of it – about her resignation and her decision to let her mother's case go. She believes he'll be happy about it – she really believes he will – but she just doesn't know.

She's meeting her Dad at their usual upper west-side cafe- the one they've been using to meet up for breakfast or sometimes just coffee - since the day they both agreed his sobriety seemed to have finally stuck. He'd managed ninety days, and it seemed so monumental, they were both so relieved to get there that they've never changed venues in the intervening years – a superstitious ritual between the two of them that celebrated that victory without the need for further talking about it.

It's now simply a part of their father/daughter routine, and when she walks through the familiar door this morning, Kate isn't at all surprised when she finds Jim Beckett already waiting for her – he's always been an early riser.

He's grabbed a seat by the window to soak up the late spring sunshine and with his nose buried in the paper and a steaming mug of coffee in front of him – Kate takes advantage of his absorption to watch her father silently for a moment. To soak up the weather lines of his face and the familiar stubborn set of his jaw. She's pleased to see he looks more relaxed these last few months, more his old self. Because stress had made him lose a lot of weight in the aftermath of her shooting – and it's not like he had much to spare there to begin with. She also knows he made himself attend of whole slew of AA meetings during her recovery – that though he never – not once - said anything, he had to get help during that time in order to stay clear of the lure of the bottle once again. She's so sorry for that, that he had to nurse her through it alone – but he was the only one whose presence she could tolerate at the time.

The only one she could bear to see her as she was afterwards – so broken.

The memories call forth – as they always do - the bright echoes of remembered pain and a sudden tightness around her scars – and Kate wishes for long moments as she studies her father's gentle face, that she could have let Castle in back then. Let him be the tremendous source of strength (for both of them) that he is, wants to be - instead of being afraid to acknowledge any of it. It seems so silly now – now that this giant seismic shift in their relationship has finally occurred – it's hard to remember when you're feeling so happy - what you were so afraid of?

Loving him is just so easy - so effortlessly easy in the end.

It's living without him that's just – unthinkable, and if she's being honest, that _is_ what she's always been so frightened of, that hurt, that devastation – all that emptiness she can so vividly remember seeing in her father's eyes for so many years – and sometimes still.

Because though losing her mother was like losing a limb – losing Castle would be the extrication of her soul – that wound from which there is no healing, and Kate knows her father of all people – will understand this.

She wonders if he'll be afraid – or happy for her? And she wonders why she's never asked him if he still believes it's worth it?

* * *

Jim Beckett looks up from his paper and his coffee when his daughter pulls out the chair on the other side of the table from him so that she can take a seat. He smiles automatically, the sight of her tall, lean and strong frame, her highlighted hair cascading around her shoulders and complimenting the green of her eyes – making her look more like her mother every day – it never fails to move him.

And then she meets his gaze as she sits, a smile curving her mouth and a "Hi Dad," falling from her lips, and his smile kinda falters as his mouth just gapes open in response.

Dear God. What on earth has happened?

His daughter's gorgeous eyes are filled with clarity – and it's stunning.

Mossy green with flecks of gold dancing in their sparkling depths, and clear, so clear they look bottomless and he's never . . . no not never . . .but not since his wife died, not in all the intervening years . . . since then Kate's eyes have always held shadows . . . and this morning – they're . . . gone.

This is his child sitting there, looking across at him. The little girl he used to read too, and push on the swing set - the one who was always laughing and full of mischief, with too much daring for her own good and his wife's unstoppable drive.

This is the child that was lost thirteen years ago, replaced in a single conversation by an adult with dark places in her soul.

Lost – never to be found again – or at least so he's always thought; that loss the cost of Katie's adoration of her murdered mother – the cost of his own desertion when he abdicated his parental duties and drowned his shattered heart in an ocean of booze.

But she's back – the daughter he hasn't laid eyes on since that fateful day, she sits grinning at him and he reaches out his hand, grabs for her – afraid she's just an apparition – feels his heart stutter when he encounters the subtle strength of her grip instead.

"You're staring at me Dad." She tells him fondly, softness and gentle indulgence in her voice that he doesn't ever recall.

His mouth, he finds, is suddenly dry, he shakes his head to clear it. But she doesn't disappear, this perfect, glowing, beautiful creature – this incarnation of his missing half – she just grips his hands harder . . . and waits for him to collect himself.

"Katie?"

His daughter nods, squeezes his hands again.

"Yes Dad?"

Jim Beckett swallows hard to clear his clogged throat.

"Katie . . . what's happened?"

The smile on her face brightens, turns inwards as well as outwards. Adoration washes across the planes of her face, illuminates her within . . . and Jim Beckett is stunned again at this transformation in his little girls' appearance. She's always been beautiful – even with the shadows - always, but today she's just . . . radiant. And then he knows. As the words to describe her go through his mind he understands suddenly exactly what this is that he's seeing in her – he recognizes it, remembers his own joy in it. _Love._

And for his Katie . . . this can only mean one thing.

_Richard Castle._

"Wait – don't tell me." He says around a brilliant smile. "It's Rick."

Her face goes shy. Draws in on itself, a natural reaction she's had since she was little, as she pulls her happiness back inside herself, guarding it zealously, as splinters of it, rays of sunshine continue to leak out through the fan of her eyelashes. Her smile is even shy, almost tremulous and she bites her lip – another habit since childhood – and he's so happy, so insanely happy for her. And for Rick too . . . Jim has never been blind to the writer's obvious love for his only daughter.

Kate nods, secrets flash across her face, a telling blush stealing into her cheeks and Jim forces himself to bite back a smile . . . some things a father is not meant to know.

"Dad I . . . you're right . . . we're together Dad – Castle and I . . . we're together now."

She pauses, and then decides its better to get the rest just out – like ripping off a band-aid. "And I need to tell you that I quit Dad. I quit the NYPD . . . I just walked away to be with him; to give us a chance at a life out of the shadows. I walked away from Mom's case Dad – for that chance, with him. I had too – because he's more important – I hope you can understand?" There is the purest sense of wonder all over her words he notices – even as she admits to something he can tell she's afraid he won't approve off. She's so wrong, he's insanely happy that she's chosen her own life - it's so beautiful to him. Her courage so achingly familiar.

"I'm really happy for you sweetheart; for both of you." He tells her. "Rick's a good man . . . and he undoubtedly loves you."

Kate sighs. "Yeah he does. I mean he really – he really does Dad . . . I'm just sorry it took me so long to accept it."

Jim nods. "Your mother was the same if you remember. It wasn't quite four years I'll grant you, but she took at least three before she opened her eyes enough to see me standing there. As smitten with her as your author is with you; magic women – the pair of you – bewitching – in every way."

Kate smiles softly, as she hears Castle in her father's words and then she grasps the opening.

"Dad . . . it is worth it – isn't it? After what happened to Mom, if you could go back, would you still risk the abyss, would you still choose to suffer the pain of her loss in payment for the time you had together?"

Tears fill his eyes, but it's the easiest question she could ask him, and he holds on extra tight to her hand now.

"Oh Katie." He whispers. "In a second, in a heartbeat – she was worth it – always."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: **Interlude

* * *

There's a terrace off of Castle's office; narrow but wide enough to accommodate a couple of Adirondack chairs with footstools and a decorative side table between them. It's a total suntrap when the weather is good, and the high concrete parapet wall blocks out a surprising amount of street noise from the bustle of the city below. She's already come to just love it out here.

The loft has it's own rooftop garden retreat also, fancy and landscaped by a professional she could be sitting up there reading a book, but its the proximity the terrace allows her to Castle, and the sheer enclosed privacy that makes sitting out here instead so damn attractive.

Because he's writing.

Hasn't been able to do much else the last three days and though he's been her partner for four years, her lover for a little over a week (OK so it's nine days and she's still counting because – well he's her l-o-v-e-r and wow), but she's never gotten to see him like this before.

Alexis assures her this is completely normal behavior, and for sure she remembers sometimes he'd miss the odd case she was working because he was behind on a deadline, or just coming up on one. But while she's always known he writes (duh) – and while she's read every single one of his books – Kate's surprised to realize how little thought she gave the process he actually goes through when he's constructing a story.

It's a little bit like she's getting to be his shadow now – and she finds she's as fascinated watching him work it seems, as he's ever been with her. She just can't participate in his world in the same way.

She glances over at him now, stealing a moment to observe once again the way his fingers just fly over the keyboard, his mind obviously working so rapidly his hands can barely keep up. The expression painting his handsome face is just intense, his eyes completely focused on his laptop screen. Kate can see his mouth moving every now and again and she smiles, because it's suddenly apparent it's all the dialogue on his lips. That he's trying out how it sounds to him before he moves on. He smiles every so often, as if he's really pleased with whatever sentence he's just constructed – and Kate forgives him completely for anytime she called his staring 'creepy' because she could pretty much just watch him do this _all_ day.

It must be her inner fan-girl or something.

She watched him over his shoulder earlier, wondering if he'd mind but she doesn't think he even realized she was there. She's learned already that when he's in that zone he doesn't actually seem to hear anything, doesn't register movement in his peripheral vision, just closes out his mind to all distractions but his story and his characters, and just lives there with them – for long periods just essentially lost to the world around him.

It's kinda insane – because she has to physically go up and touch him to get him to stop and do something as simple as eat.

Alexis tells her he can sometimes exist on nothing for more than a day and only when the story stops running smoothly in his brain, will he emerge completely starving and dehydrated before he crashes and lets sleep have his mind for a while. Sometimes he gets up and does it all over again, sometimes he writes much more in fits and starts, a scene here and a chapter there. But this all consuming writing blitz happens fairly regularly according to his daughter and Kate remembers how Alexis smiled fondly at her and just said -

"You'll get used to it Kate. And he's never overly grumpy if you have to physically stop him – he knows how he is."

_You'll get used to it Kate._

An off-hand remark that meant so much – because it implies Alexis has already accepted Kate is really in this for the long haul – it's a measure of trust – and Kate's thankful.

Alexis has even left them all alone.

The author's daughter has flown to California to celebrate her recent graduation with her mother for a couple of weeks. Martha has already de-camped to the Hampton's with her latest beau and Kate . . . well she's been back at her apartment a few times, but only to grab more clothes and to bring them right back here.

And if Castle's made space in his closet – which he subtly has - she isn't dwelling on it.

She certainly isn't contemplating timelines for this or speed of that, because she's well - she's never actually _not _wanted her own space before. Never not wanted a certain amount of time on her own, but these last nine days – it's not like they've ever been under each others feet. They've spent long hours together – but this is nothing new, and they've spent long hours apart, running errands separately. He's had meetings, and she's been busy sorting out a withdrawal from her trust fund to tide her over for the next few months or so. Castle had asked her gently if she needed some financial help – but she won't be taking a penny from him because at least for a little while she honestly doesn't need too.

Her mother left her a tidy sum – she can manage without assistance until she figures out what she wants to do.

But right now she doesn't even want to think about it.

Castle's been – well himself. Totally himself with one crazy employment suggestion after another – she thinks her favorite so far might be 'soldier-of-fortune', he's thinking A-Team style with a black van and everything, she told him he was nuts and that neither cigars nor Mohawks are her style.

And the truth is though - she has no ideas about _what_ she does want to do. And she's strangely and uncharacteristically okay with that –at least for now. She could always go back to school she supposes, but the last time she was there she was pre-law and that's – well that's just _not _going to happen.

Kate studies the line of his jaw, enjoys the play of muscles in his back and wonders if maybe she's blocked because she thought she'd be a cop forever – that she'd die a cop, and now she just wants to live.

She's almost drunk on it – she realizes as she grins while she watches Castle mouthing more lines for Nikki under his breath.

Almost drunk on having nothing but time to just relax, to read, to watch him and absorb him and just bask in him, in his mere existence and how amazing it is, and how content she is to exist without murder for a while.

She knows that will change – that at some future point her batteries will have re-charged and her natural drive will push her in a new direction, and Kate knows she'll welcome it when that time eventually arrives. But she won't wish for it to happen – not yet, not when her life has finally stopped passing her by and she's actually living it.

Not when there are Castle's to watch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: **3am.

* * *

Eyes scanning the loft from his office doorway - he locates her huddled form on the couch around 3am. The flickering light from the flat-screen is casting a blue-tinged illumination across what he can perceive of her, the TV is muffled, and she's obviously been watching it. There's no moon tonight, just some sickly orange glow from the city to add to the creepy feeling he has – what is she doing up? Why can't she sleep?

It appears that he's already become completely addicted to the sensation of her sleeping next to him – which is actually somewhat weird because, despite having been married twice before, he's not known for being a snuggler – Castle actually prefers his own space when he's sleeping.

Everything with Kate is different though – everything, he hopes it never stops surprising him, because what was it he told her once – _some people love the institution . . . hate the day to day._

He was speaking about himself of course – of his mutually exclusive feelings of on one hand loving the idea of being formally, officially connected to someone, belonging to someone, but finding the everyday minutia just irritating and confining in the extreme.

Of course he now fully comprehends that's because he was married to the wrong women.

And when he added the final item to his 'bucket list' - _Get married and make it last – _it was because he'd reached that conclusion. And he knew, deep down in the deepest reaches of his soul that it could be amazing – that even the everyday crap – would be a blessing with the _right_ woman.

With Kate.

Because if it isn't her . . . then it just isn't destined for him.

But it will be her – he's determined – she's his now and he doesn't think there is any part of him left that could ever let her go.

Which is why her absence from his bed has permeated into even his unconscious psyche it seems, and then promptly woken him up to go and seek her? Castle steps closer slowly, his bare feet making no noise on the hardwood floor, he doesn't want to wake her if she's fallen asleep out here . . . he'll just pick her up and cart her off to where he wants her . . . oh wait – shit. His heart plummets to his stomach – is she? Shit she is . . . she's crying.

For a moment suspended in time he's just shaken to his core.

Worse case scenarios – the bane of his highly imaginative mind sometimes – go instantly through him.

_He's smothering her and she's trying to figure out how to break up with him._

_Her resignation and the loss of her 'identity' as a cop are finally hitting home. And she's going to run back to the precinct first thing in the morning and risk her life again on her mother's case._

_Because this – them – it's not enough for her._

_She was mistaken, she doesn't love him and she's going to take back all the times now when she's told him she does._

The writer tells himself to 'get a grip Rick' – and sternly. Hates that his default setting with regards to their relationship and challenges has become doubting what he means to her.

They are past the secrets and the lies – and he _will_ get over it.

She's here and she's been here for almost two weeks now (okay so it's more like eleven days but he's not counting, he swears he's not.) If her resignation and the letting her mother's case go in favor of being with him are hitting her – then he should help her face that – together. If she's having doubts – and God the thought of that hurts so – urghh he can't even breathe around that thought – he needs to be supportive. Whatever this is . . . he needs to try and understand.

"Kate." He whispers into the darkness.

She straightens on the couch in response. But her shoulders are shaking.

He closes the remaining distance between them, takes a deep breath and then sits beside her on the leather sofa and pulls her into his arms. She goes willingly, her trembling form instantly seeking the warmth of his body, her slender arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

She grips him tightly, climbs into his lap and holds on as she shakes wretchedly, and he's helpless to anything but hold her. Comfort her with his presence while his heart resides in his throat.

It's a long moment before he can speak, but as she starts to calm, he finds his voice finally.

"Kate . . . baby what is it?"

The writer cringes the second the word 'baby' pops out his mouth – certain she'll hate it. But then in the exact same instant she sighs against him, lifts her face from where its been buried against his chest and bestows on him a very watery smile.

"Tell me – whatever it is – please Kate." Damn the tremble in his voice.

She sniffs, and drags the back of her hand across her wet cheeks, she looks so small, so adorable and suddenly so ridiculously _young - _and his heart is breaking here – truthfully.

"M'sorry Castle. I didn't mean to wake you up." She says, and her voice is stronger than he would have expected.

He sighs. "I missed you – even sleeping somehow I missed you." He tells her with a small, self-deprecating shrug.

His confession at least has the capacity to make her smile, and it doesn't seem to make her uncomfortable, in fact that smile is pretty . . . actually its a full on 'Kate' smile.

His lips quirk into a wry smile in response.

"I'm kinda pathetic huh . . . God I love you." He does, he just does and he can't seem to keep it in.

"It's good." She says, kissing him softly, and then wetly and his body reacts and he pushes up against her . . . almost forgets for moment that he's out here on the couch with her at 3am because she left his bed and was watching TV and he found her sobbing.

It hits him, and he pulls back, cups her jaw in his right hand.

"Seriously." He says gently. "Why are you sobbing on the couch in the middle of the night Kate?"

She looks sheepish – and it's unexpected, his heart lightens.

"I was watching the season finale of Grey's." She confesses, and then she ducks her head against his chest again.

_She was what now?_

"You were crying . . . hell Kate you were sobbing . . . because of a TV show?" He he can hear the incredulity in his voice too.

Against him she nods.

And his heart soars – because that's so . . . damn . . . she'll be the death of him yet . . . but maybe not. And the writer laughs, he can't help it, he just completely cracks up.

In his lap she get's jostled as he completely breaks down, and then she gets indignant and she swats him on his arm – hard.

"Don't you dare laugh Richard Castle . . . you haven't seen it yet – but you were the one who set the DVR and . . . seriously Castle . . . it was so heartbreaking . . .L"

He clamps his hand across her mouth, eyes stern.

"Spoiler alert Beckett . . . don't ruin it."

Kate narrows her eyes.

"So you do want to watch it . . . you know Castle you should save the laughing until you've seen it . . . I'm telling you the creator of that show is trying to kill us." She says vehemently.

Smiling, he chuckles softly.

"So that's all that had you up at 3am . . . you just couldn't wait any longer to watch a season finale?"

Kate nods.

"Busted . . . I would have waited but I couldn't Rick . . . I had to know. We can go back to bed now if you like." She says suggestively, leaning in to kiss him again, open-mouthed and breathless.

Castle shakes his head.

"N'uh woman . . . now you're just going to have to sit through it all over again . . . because this I gotta see."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: '**Girl-time'**  
**

* * *

"So how's the sex?"

Kate swallows her mouthful of wine quickly in an effort not to spit it all over the table, but it stubbornly goes down the wrong pipe and she winds up in a coughing fit instead that just doesn't want to quit.

She should have seen that question coming actually – Lanie is _evil._

From the other side of the restaurant table, Dr. Lanie Parish smiles wickedly at her best friend, before she eventually takes pity on the former detective and pours her a glass of water.

She hands it over – waiting patiently for Kate to grasp hold of it, but sympathy is sadly lacking in the mischievous curl of the doctor's lips, and Kate sips it slowly in the moments when she can control the hacking.

People all over the restaurant are staring at them, but by the time Kate has her breathing back under control, thankfully everyone appears to have returned to their meals.

Beckett shoots Lanie a 'death-glare' but it only serves to widen the medical examiners smile and raise her eyebrow – which clearly indicates to Kate that she's still waiting on an answer to her question.

Time to play ignorant – string out the fun.

"Seriously Lanie? I almost die – again. I quit my job. Espo is suspended because of me and the first thing you want to know is - 'how's the sex?' I haven't even officially told you that Castle and I are together yet?" She mock complains.

The M.E.'s eyebrow climbs further.

"Pleaasssse. . . . Like I need you to actually tell me that Kate. You haven't been living at home for three weeks and you called me for this little get together from writer-boys number. Not that we won't be getting to all that other stuff mind you – but inquiring minds need to know and you've already kept me hanging for three weeks . . . so cut the crap and tell me already Beckett."

Kate laughs softly.

"It was worth the wait." She says, not elaborating further.

"Beckkkeeetttttttt." Lanie whines.

"What?"

Lanie sighs dramatically.

"Girlfriend that can't be all you're gonna give me. Worth the wait! That's it. This is you . . . and Richard freaking _Castle!_ Four years of pent up sexual tension Kate . . . _four years_ and three New York Times bestsellers - all of them with some pretty steamy content I might remind you. You gotta give me details girl – not so much that I can't look him in the eyes ever again, but more than 'worth the wait' – do you hear me?"

Kate laughs again, and Lanie watches, suddenly transfixed by the delighted and wistful, and adoring smile that spreads slowly across her best friends beautiful features. Her green-gold eyes light up, focus turning momentarily inward and then the blush steals becomingly over her skin – and Lanie discovers she's immediately smiling too. Damn – she thinks - writer-boy's that good huh?

Still, the doctor doesn't say anything, knowing that if she just waits Kate out a little, her friend will eventually confide something juicy – and Lanie can't help it – after all these years – she just . . .needs something – isn't even sure what.

"He . . . he makes love to me." Kate says quietly in the end, her eyes holding Lanie's deep brown ones in a sure and open gaze. "It's never as simple as sex Lanie . . . no matter how frenzied or desperate or hot it gets. And it gets HOT . . . it does, because he's experienced and he's handsome and _mine._ But it's always love . . . he's always showing me how much I mean to him when we're together . . . like that. And no-one has ever made me feel this way before . . . and no-one else ever will again – I love him Lanie."

_Well double damn_.

Lanie's truly surprised to find her heart suddenly in her throat, and emotions choking her as she bears witness to the quiet, steady, very _real _happiness reflected on Kate's face.

"You look so different." She blurts out.

Beckett looks puzzled.

"Do I?"

Lanie nods.

"You really do. You look happy Kate . . . and I guess what with your resignation and everything I wasn't expecting that exactly. I mean not that I didn't think Castle could make you happy – I've always known that he could if you'd just give the man the chance – but I guess that's why I asked you about the sex – get to the good news first kind of thing. I mean you quit Kate – you quit the precinct – quit your mom's case . . . I never saw you doing that and heck listen to me . . . I'm rambling."

Kate reaches across the table and grasps her best friend's hand.

"Lane I _am_ happy. Being with him makes me happy. And all I want right now is to ensure his happiness in return. Everything else is on hold – for now – he's my priority for once. But I'm not ignoring it; I'm not hiding in this with him – the total opposite in fact. I do miss the precinct – I know it's possible I always will. I also know the fact that I've given up what I've lived to do – might become an issue eventually that needs to be dealt with – and when that time arrives I'll deal with it – but I won't let it put my life on hold ever again. I'm just going to take my time right now - figure out what comes next for me and how I want my life to look. But I don't have any doubts that he's the starting point Lanie – he's the foundation – because without him there is nothing to build on."

She squeezes Lanie's hand.

"Trust me – I know what I'm doing – for once in my life everything is finally clear." Beckett says firmly.

Dr. Parish smiles widely. "Good to know. I'm really happy for you Kate – and for Castle too." She says softly.

"I know you are." Kate replies. "Now tell me something – how is Espo doing? He won't take my calls and I can't help thinking he's mad at me for needing to walk away. I don't even blame him – he stuck his neck out to support me and he probably feels I abandoned him."

Lanie sighs. "Javi won't talk to me about it. We aren't together Kate – a few hook-ups aside our issues have not changed and I don't know that they ever will. He won't let anyone in right now – I spoke to Ryan last week and I know Javi hasn't spoken to him since his suspension, won't have anything to do with him in fact. Ryan is partnered with Karpowski temporarily right now – and he's really cut up hunnie. Have you spoken to him at all?"

Kate shakes her head.

"No – no I haven't, I've just been focused on Castle. But I really should, shouldn't I - he saved my life Lanie – if he hadn't done what he did, I'd have died, and I can't say that he was wrong – in his way he had my back just as much as Espo did. Ryan did what he believed was the right thing to do – and I'll never judge him for that."

Lanie nods.

"Then do me a favor and call him hunnie. Because Kevin's really hurting right now; I think he feels like he's lost all of you – Castle included and it's really tearing him up."

Kate nods, picks at a spot on the tablecloth looking thoughtful. "I'll call him tonight – maybe I could invite him and Jenny over to the loft for dinner or something."

Lanie's loud bark of laughter startles her.

"What?"

"Dinner at the _loft_ . . . hark at you . . . _Mrs. Castle_."

Kate's napkin hits her full in the face and Lanie laughs harder, but when she catches Kate's eyes she's thrilled to note that her best friend is just . . . smiling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you - all you lovely reviewers for your kind and loving words. I cherish them - even when I don't always have the time to individually respond.**

* * *

**Chapter Five:** Just when you think . . .

* * *

The panic attack today really caught the both of them completely off-guard.

Looking back on it now - hours later as she soaks contentedly up to her neck in bubbles, surrounded by soothing candles in the midst of Castle's truly enormous bathtub – Kate suspects it might actually have hit her partner much harder than its hit her.

But then she's been through this on and off for the last year now, and with the relaxation exercises that Dr. Burke has taught her, along with his patient explanations of how PTSD actually works – she gets herself back under control now with an increasing swiftness each time.

She's getting better – and that's what's important to her – that constant improvement.

Of course Castle doesn't know that and that's most likely the reason why he's so completely rattled. She's consciously hidden as much of it as possible from him up until this point – hidden it from everyone as much as she can – and this time she didn't – not that she could – but he witnessed all of it and the devastation in his face, the guilt because he'd chosen an activity for them that triggered it – well that hurts her far more deeply than any stupid panic attack ever could.

Kate leans her head back against the headrest of the tub, closes her green eyes and sighs – she isn't sure how to make this up to him – how to stop Castle from blaming himself for this. They've just been so happy this last month, sitting blissfully on a cloud of togetherness and enjoying life, having fun, and now it's like before they got together all over again.

There's a sadness, a separation almost.

Well not quite.

But he's retreated somewhat. He's being careful again and less playful in the hours since it happened and she hates it. She hates it all.

She's managed to dim the mischief and the glow that's been radiating out of him the last month – and she wants it back at any cost. Doesn't want him to feel like he needs to be careful or gentle or hide from her ever again.

There's been enough of that between them to last her ten lifetimes.

Kate reaches for the wineglass on the side of the tub by feel, and heart feeling heavy she brings the glass to her lips with her eyes still closed. The bath has caused a pleasant warmth and lethargy in her limbs (if not in her mind) and she actually misses her mouth somewhat and spills a sizable amount down her chin.

Eyes flying open she giggles and then she sees him in the doorway, his bright eyes fixed on the splash of red wine on her upper chest and Kate smiles. She's already used to the way his cobalt eyes darken and his jaw tenses when he sees her naked, she's anticipating it, looking for it – looking forward to it. But the sight of her naked and soapy in his tub doesn't get her the reaction she's hoping for. And for a long moment she fights back a wave of nausea when he noticeably pales, closes his eyes, swallows heavily and then turns on his heel and flees instead.

Beckett looks down, its just red wine . . . and then she notices where it's pooling and . . . _shit._

Oh God. Not this - not more, and not now . . . because he shouldn't have to cope with any more of this today.

Neither of them should.

Kate's out of the huge bathtub in a flash of smooth wet skin - calling for him. Grabbing a borrowed white terry cloth robe she wraps it around her soap-slicked torso and chases after him into his bedroom.

But the spacious room is empty so she calls out for him again.

"Castle . . . Rick where are you?"

There's no response and she's dripping here, leaving wet soapy footprints on the hardwood floor. No time to dry off properly though, Kate debates her choices and goes left, almost slipping as she passes through the side bedroom door that leads to the loft's main entrance-way. She holds her footing – barely – but collides with the unforgiving door frame, giving her elbow a nasty whack and the former cop curses loudly.

"Dammit . . . Castle . . . where are you?"

Increasingly anxious her eyes scan the spaces around her.

The main floor of the loft appears to be empty as she pads to the center of the living room – nothing - she looks back towards his office though both the open office door and the see-thru bookshelves.

No Castle.

_Where the hell is he? He can't have left the loft – she would have heard it._

"Rick?"

She moves towards the apparently empty kitchen, is almost there when she finally hears him.

He isn't crying. He isn't really making much noise at all, but his breathing is what she can detect – too loud and far too rapid and definitely all wrong.

In a pattern she recognizes – one she's familiar with in the worst possible of ways.

It's just the exact same as her own breathing was earlier this very same day – a panic attack; he's having a panic attack.

_Not Castle – please not Castle._

And then there are tears in Kate's eyes and her heart she swears is breaking.

_Not him too._

Beckett approaches him slowly; she can't see him yet because he must be sitting on the floor in the kitchen and he's hidden by the island at his back. She rounds the corner and carefully crouches down next to him.

Castle sits with his head on his knees, arms wrapped tightly around himself like he's trying to make himself as small as possible – and Kate's heart clenches again.

A small target – he's trying to be a small target, and it kills her to wonder _if _this has ever happened to him before.

Tentatively she reaches out her hand, knows from experience that sudden movement or loud noises will only make this worse, but also knowing that the right touch – the right presence can be craved. Even in the midst of the terror and the fear, the right person – if given the opportunity – could reach you.

And surely if there is a right person in this moment – when he's reliving – then she's his.

"Castle." Kate speaks softly, her outstretched hand making contact with his knee as her voice speaks into the stillness – overlying the noise of his breathing with calm.

No reaction – at least not immediately.

"Castle . . . I'm right here."

She hopes she's not imagining it, but she could swear his breathing has eased, maintaining her physical contact she slides her hand gently from his knee up the length of his arm and into his hair.

She cards through it with her fingers, the barest whisper of her nails against his scalp.

Then she tries to speak to him again.

"Baby . . . can you hear me? Look at me Rick – I'm right here."

Kate doesn't know where the endearment came from – she's not really big on them, but it falls sincerely from her lips. She loves him, God she loves him so – he's everything now, he's just . . . her free hand fists and her nails bite into the flesh of her palm. They've walked away from all that's caused this . . . and neither of them is alone.

"Sweetheart please."

His breathing has definitely calmed and so she sits beside him on the floor now, maintains the soothing movement of her fingers through the soft thickness of his hair, and eventually he looks up, eyes full of gratitude – focused on her immediately.

"Thanks Kate." His voice is strained.

So she smiles at him with everything she has. All her love, her adoration, her need, and her understanding – that too is there – that she understands the what's and why's of these things.

"It's gonna be okay Castle." She says calmly. "You saw how I was earlier today and I swear to you that I honestly feel fine now – I've shaken it off. I'm so sorry you had to see it – I think it might have made what just happened to you worse than it needed to have been."

He nods his blue eyes suddenly full of horror again.

"Looked kinda like blood you know, the wine you'd spilled, and it was just . . . well _there . . _. right above your heart Kate; and it hit me out of nowhere – outside of my dreams that's never happened to me before."

She cups the side of his face with her palm, tilts his head until he can do nothing but look at her.

"You dream of my shooting?" She asks.

Castle nods again. "A lot at first . . . then not so much after the summer . . . once we were reunited it got better. It hasn't happened at all the last few months – not once." He confesses quietly.

It urges her to share.

"What happened earlier Castle – with the laser tag . . ."

Under her palm he shudders.

* * *

It should have been such a fun outing, and truthfully it was, it really was and they'd been having such a great time. Castle had read about a new indoor laser tag centre over the bridge in Jersey. A huge converted warehouse, top of the line tag playing gear, all kinds of obstacles and bases to use and protect and giant kid that he is he'd practically begged her to go.

Not that she really took very much persuading. The late spring weather has been great since the storm the night of her resignation, but the last few days had been despondent and rainy and cabin fever had been setting in for the pair of them.

All of 'Frozen Heat' was now with Black Pawn for initial editing, he was as free as she was time wise, and so he'd cajoled and she'd pretended to be all magnanimous about giving in to him and they'd been at the place barely ninety minutes later.

Paired up on the same team they'd been having a blast taking out all their opposition. Between Kate's law-enforcement tactical and firearms training, and Castle's crack shot, they'd practically annihilated three quarters of their opponents in the first ten minutes of the twenty minute game. On their way to taking out another pair's base, an opponent had gotten the drop on Castle, and decided in a moment of fun that aiming their laser at his head – the bright red dot appearing dead-center of his forehead - was a great idea, a little bit of fun intimidation before they tagged his vest.

Not so fun for Kate as it turned out.

She absolutely froze.

Everything around her slowed down; time becoming the long drawn out pauses between the elevated beats of her heart. Sheer terror had gripped her so tightly she couldn't get any oxygen either in or out of her suddenly screaming lungs.

She forgot they were merely playing a harmless game. She couldn't comprehend in those seconds that he wasn't in any danger. All that was in her mind was that he was going to die, to be taken from her and it would happen before she could act to stop it.

She'd finally gotten her lungs to cooperate, and then she'd screamed his name.

Scared his opponent so badly the young guy had dropped his laser-tag gun and Castle actually managed to tag him.

He'd turned to her smiling, obviously thinking the scream was a ploy – and one that worked – until his eyes alighted on her face and her condition slowly dawned on him.

She dropped to her knees right there on the warehouse floor, huge tears streaming down her face, every part of her physically shaking as she struggled for breath.

He'd picked her up and carried her out of there.

In the changing rooms she'd come back to herself pretty quickly, tear-stained and now feeling foolish she'd said everything she could think of to say, trying in vain to wipe the guilt-ridden expression from his face.

* * *

"Castle what happened to me today – it's a part of my PTSD. Sometimes things happen that trigger it. I mean, look at what just happened - right here in your own apartment tonight Rick - to _you_. Its no-ones fault Castle - when it happens . . . and I'm doing so very much better now."

He lowers his head, hangs it like he's in shame, but he nods as she sighs, and it drags out more from her – more that he should now hear.

"I can honestly tell you that last summer it was . . . bad and I wish I'd been smart enough back then to have you with me Castle - you and Dr. Burke too. I can only think how much further along I might be now if I hadn't been so stubborn, so unwilling to acknowledge that I needed some help. But I am now getting there Castle – truly - really getting past it, and you will too."

She leans in and plants a kiss on his lips, lets her breath fan across his face, before she takes his hand in hers and pulls it inside her robe, forcing him to touch the living truth of her.

"Together – we'll get there together Kate." He whispers, closing his eyes and breathing easy again as he rests his forehead against hers.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Short one - and no idea where it came from! Read & Review.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Six:** Well this is awkward!

* * *

They say love can make you blind – it doesn't but she's totally going to go with that as an explanation for why she wasn't looking where she was going.

Kate pushes her sunglasses (why is she wearing them inside again) up off of her face and looks slowly up at the guy she's just collided with in the coffee shop - the guy who is currently wearing both her coffee and Castle's, all down the front of his tight white t-shirt.

One glance tells her he so isn't getting that out – and it might only be a white t-shirt (worn under a killer leather jacket she might add) but it looks expensive – she can just tell with these things.

"God I'm so sorry." She gushes. "I should have been looking where I was going . . . is there anything I can do? Buy you a coffee . . . or a new shirt for that matter?"

"Kate?"

Realization kicks in, because she knows that voice. Her gaze makes it up from the giant mess she's made of this poor guys outfit, up onto his face . . .

"Josh!"

_Well damn – isn't this awkward._

Nothing like spilling a massive amount of hot coffee all over someone whose heart you once broke to totally screw up your day.

She ransacks her brain for a safe topic of conversation and then mentally slaps herself in the head – yeah right Kate – there is no way any conversation between them is likely to go well – so just say something, grab some replacement coffee and then get the hell outta here.

Mustering a commiserating smile, Beckett indicates the Barista behind them.

"Can I buy you a drink Josh? Least I can do right . . . that is if you're still after coffee now that you're wearing it?"

She's somewhat surprised when her ex smiles back, and nods.

"Sure. I'm on my way to the hospital anyhow – and I've got plenty of scrubs to change into there." He tells her.

Heading over to the counter Kate apologizes profusely to the young man behind the counter about the coffee spill on the floor, and then she re-orders for herself and Castle, before she finally turns back with her eyebrow raised to collect whatever it is that Josh actually wants.

The surgeon sends her a brief puzzled look and then says,

"Grande Americano Misto."

Oh yeah – that's right. She should totally remember that he always has the same thing shouldn't she? They were only together for a year!

She places Josh's order and pays, before she heads over to the pick-up end of the counter and prays that they'll be as quick as possible and she can just make a speedy getaway.

But then of course Josh comes to stand right beside her.

"So Kate . . . you look . . . well amazing actually. How have you been doing?" He asks warmly.

The devil on her shoulder has her brain replace the word 'how' with 'who' and then instantly supply the word 'Castle', but thankfully her mouth isn't listening.

"I'm great." She responds safely. The last time she saw Josh she was still in the hospital and she'd just broken up with him amid huge accusations on his part about her feelings for her partner. Accusations she vehemently denied and in the end he believed her. Anything she reveals right now just makes all she said to him that day a plain lie – and it was, and she's already hurt him once – so this conversation needs to end before she ends up doing it again.

But then again it has been a year; he's bound to have moved on so most likely she's totally worrying about nothing here.

"I've missed you Kate." Josh says gently, his hand coming up to squeeze her elbow.

Then again maybe not. Damn.

_I mean really, she thinks, what on earth am I supposed to say?_

"I'm sorry." Is what she goes with in the end, and now she's praying they'll seriously hurry up with that coffee.

The handsome cardiac surgeon smiles, and then ruins it by completely misinterpreting.

"Sorry enough to let me buy you dinner later? If you're not on-call that is – and judging by the sundress Kate I'll make an educated guess that this is your day off?

_Oh dear God._

"Not on call – no. But not free either I'm afraid." She says gently but firmly, a further apology clearly evident in her eyes.

It's a crying shame Josh doesn't see it.

"Tomorrow?" He asks instead.

Kate shakes her head. "That doesn't work either."

"Well how about you tell me your schedule and maybe we can figure it out with mine?" He says.

_Oh so very scary much like old times._

"Josh . . ." She begins. But then she pauses and she thinks - _to hell with it_ - _this is what it is._

"I'm not free period."

The doctor frowns and then as the first part of Kate's coffee order is placed on the bar behind her he eyes the two coffee cups, standing there, ironically touching and it opens his eyes.

"Oh."

The frown drops off his face and a blank mask replaces it. His handsome face becomes completely expressionless, that is until you look in his eyes.

Dark – almost black – they've never held for Kate anything that she was looking for – and they don't now. But they are full of knowledge – and she's sorry for that.

"You're with him now." The surgeon tells her.

_Worse than that Josh – I'm utterly in love with him._

Kate nods.

"Yeah. I am."

His dark eyes grow colder.

"So you lied to me back then – when you broke up with me I mean. All those things you said . . . "He trails off.

They were lies, that's the truth of it. And she'll admit that now, she will. But not for Josh, and not for herself, but for the person who isn't here.

"I didn't want to hurt you. And I couldn't deal with the truth. . ." She begins, he cuts her off.

"A year I've held onto to those lies – did you know that? A year I've hoped that they were the truth, because it meant – hell it meant that there was still a chance Kate. So just tell me this – do you love him?" Josh asks angrily.

Kate nods.

"Yes – I do."

Josh nods slowly, chews on his lip.

"You always have – haven't you?" He adds.

She nods again.

"Always will."

The heart surgeon looks down at his ruined clothing, blows out a breath and simply walks away.

Kate turns back to the counter for her newest set of coffees, seeing the Barista staring at her she shoots the young man a brief flash of a smile.

"Yeah I know." She tells him. "That was awkward."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the posting delay - I've been so sick, so leave me a review and brighten my day (I'm shameless I know.)**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: **Two can play that game.

* * *

She can still level him with a single look.

It's amazing.

Render him wanting and turned-on past the point of distraction with little more than that teasing smile of hers and a certain level of heat in her eyes. And he just cannot figure out how that's possible?

Seriously.

Because it's actually worse now than it ever was before she was his lover – much worse – and where dear God is the logic in that?

For Heaven's sake he gets to see her naked now – pretty much whenever he wants, and he knows exactly how to make _her_ beg– so how is it that just a heated look across table and a naughty smile can reduce him so quickly to this gut twisting, 'I have to have you now' state of affairs?

His jeans are currently really uncomfortable and he isn't going to be able to leave this booth anytime soon.

Castle squirms in his seat in a vain attempt to manage his current condition and Kate smirks knowingly at him – the full knowledge of all she's accomplished so effortlessly written confidently in her glowing eyes and all across her gorgeous face. Damn. The author finds himself having to squirm again, but there really is only one way to ease this situation and it's highly unlikely to happen right now.

So really she's actually being kinda mean . . . mean old Kate Beckett and she's just toying with him like a kitten does with a piece of string.

Yeah for some reason, (he's so not going there), that reminds him of Meredith and Kate is nothing – absolutely _nothing_ like her.

He squirms again as Kate toys with the straw in her milkshake as she sits across from him. She's got the obnoxious lime-green thing gripped firmly between her teeth and he can clearly see when she flicks her tongue ever so slowly over the end of it.

He groans really softly – hopefully not enough to be heard, but then she sends that heated look right at him again and it's obvious how much fun she thinks she's having doing all of this on purpose just to torment him.

God. He wants her so badly – and she's such a tease.

And it's right as he's thinking about all the ways he can try and exact his revenge on her for this that the light bulb in his head suddenly goes off.

_Knowledge. _

_Ah knowledge. It can be such a dangerous thing._

_Knowledge truly is power – and as such he is as armed now as she is in this scenario._

If its his explicit carnal knowledge of her is that's wreaking such total havoc on him, what's making her a more powerful seductress where he is concerned than ever before – then it stands to reason that he can have an equally powerful and chaotic effect on her.

Time to road test this theory.

So he grins at her evilly.

* * *

She's having the most fun right now. The sun is shining, her belly is full and Castle is sitting opposite her looking really, truly, completely and utterly turned-on. And besotted. He looks besotted – with her. And it feels so insanely great to see him looking at her so openly like this once again.

She studies him happily. The familiar planes of his handsome face, noting with no small amount of satisfaction how much easier he seems to be carrying himself these last few weeks. He laughs more frequently, plays tricks and makes jokes and all the things she pretended used to annoy her but that she secretly loved about him. He's all man – but the little boy within him is back – his spark, his innate 'Castle-ness' is fully functioning again.

And it's truly wonderful how happy and how powerful - how completely womanly it makes her feel.

Because this is all down to her – to the evolution in their relationship – she's still making him crazy, but in nothing but the good ways for now.

And judging by the look she's just detecting - pure molten heat - flaring within the deep blue of his eyes – he's about to start an attack of the same.

She raises her eyebrow at him, and then sucks obscenely on her milkshake straw – _challenge accepted Castle._

* * *

He ruthlessly swallows the moan as Kate sucks up her milkshake with a force that is highly unnecessary.

Images – pornographic ones – flash briefly behind his open eyes, but he's determined now – so he won't moan God dammit. He so won't moan.

Instead the writer shifts again in his seat, but with more purpose. A flex behind his hips that she cannot fail to recognize, and though its actually a perverse kind of torture right now, the silent 'oh' on her lips and the way her mouth slackens, falls open on a soft sigh of need – so totally worth it.

A_nything_ that elicits that heavenly noise from the most beautiful woman in the world is always gonna be worth it. However that small sound does also wreak havoc on him physically, and the writer has to exert another moment of ruthless control over his lower body so that he doesn't let the result of said havoc show.

Instead he diligently tilts his face downwards, and then he looks across at her from beneath his eyelashes. He's well aware that the way his hair falls roguishly across his forehead, as his long lashes frame his eyes makes him look both younger – and utterly mischievous – he's been using it on women his whole life. And then he waits until she finally meets his eyes fully, before he pulls her completely in by allowing all he wants to do to her to show - he writes it starkly on his features, and then he slowly allows his gaze to drop to her chest. And there he lets it linger.

He caresses her stunning body with nothing other than the fire in his eyes and then he watches smugly – complete satisfaction blooming within him as her body responds – unwillingly on some level because he knows how she cannot bear to be bested at anything – but she responds helplessly anyway.

It's clearly visible to him – how he can affect her, he can see it easily through the tight white blouse. Kate will insist on wearing the damn things so form-fitting - so distracting – but her penchant for them is currently woefully backfiring on her when she plays games with him like this one.

Castle drops his eyes to the table next, imagines he's like Superman and he can see straight through it to the mile long expanse of her toned legs in those little khaki shorts she's currently sporting. He can picture her so vividly it's almost as if the table truly is no barrier to his vision at all and then he very purposefully swallows heavily – as if there is something just delicious that he just tasted.

_Oh I gotcha Kate._

It's barely a second before his partner shifts in her seat – long legs involuntarily falling slightly open, and then she shifts again, crosses her legs and he hears her sigh as her new position has the benefit of offering some much required pressure.

He breathes slowly, can't help but picture applying that pressure for her, and then he risks looking back at her face again.

Pupils so totally dilated her green-gold eyes look black, are looking back at him.

Twin pools of lust he wants nothing more than to drown in.

His eyebrow quirks at her, his lips tugging up into a soft beguiling smile and Kate smiles back wryly. Acknowledges with a quick tilt of her head that he's every bit as good at this game as she is and then she raises her eyebrow back at him – her question is clear.

_Please tell me you want to get out here?_

Castle nods, but then realizes if he stands up to leave and anyone glances below his waist . . . ?

He shoots a panicked glance screaming for help her way.

And Kate leans over the table and softly kisses him. When she pulls back she arches both her eyebrows and he chews his lip before he sighs – admitting to her his defeat.

"Don't worry Castle; I'll protect you – you'll just have to stand behind me." She tells him laughingly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: **Dinner with friends.

* * *

He slides his arms around her waist from behind, trying not to notice how very much he loves her like this, barefoot in his kitchen even though she's dressed for dinner in a pretty and somewhat demure summer dress - and fussing over her mother's Bolognese recipe like a mother hen.

He sees their future so vividly in these moments – can imagine so much – a year from now – ten years – forever.

Castle's breathes deeply, inhaling the subtle scent of his own shampoo that lingers in her hair and how it seems to mix so harmoniously with the light and airy perfume she's taken to wearing. It makes him smile, it makes him happy.

Resting his chin on her shoulder he snuggles her close and then he sighs.

"They'll be here any minute Castle . . . did you uncork the wine?" She asks, stirring the pasta sauce again and staring at it anxiously.

"Already done Kate. Stop fussing, it's just Kevin and Jenny and everything is going to be perfect." He tells her.

Within the circle of his arms he can feel her tense and so he gives her a squeeze, before he turns his head to the left and feathers kisses all along the side of her jaw. It has the desired affect and she relaxes immediately – a soft sigh of pure pleasure escaping her that makes him want to cancel their dinner plans and drag her back to bed.

But he's been fortunate to be able to do that an awful lot the last five weeks so he's going to be good – he is, but then his partner turns her head so her lips can find his and he's groaning into her mouth – and debating how much time they might still have when they are interrupted by a knock on the loft's door.

Kate breaks out of his arms smirking, sends him a heated gaze that's clearly labeled 'later' before she discreetly wipes her mouth to eradicate her smudged lipstick and then she heads in the direction of the front door.

'Tease." He calls out after her, and she turns quickly and winks at him before she continues on to open the door to their guests.

From the kitchen Castle can see Jenny is beaming at Kate and immediately wrapping her up in a hug, but Kevin Ryan - following on his tiny wife's heels looks nervous . . . really nervous and trying hard not to show it and Castle's stomach lurches somewhat – God how he feels for him. The writer determinedly shakes it off – they might be a little late getting around to this – but putting Ryan back at ease with the both of them is exactly what this whole dinner is about.

Ryan saved Kate's life.

Period.

He did what was needed in the face of opposition from everyone – and he should know Castle will never forget it. Without Kevin having the courage of his convictions, Kate wouldn't be here at all right now, and Castle would have lost the love of his life – he owes the detective absolutely everything.

All this amazing happiness and joy; all this sense of _rightness_ that has taken up residence in the writer's world – none of it would exist without Ryan.

The thoughts have the writer suddenly moving, his handsome face cracked wide open in a massive, grateful smile and when he reaches Jenny and Kevin – who are just handing their jackets over to his partner, he sweeps Jenny up into his arms and hugs her tightly.

"Jenny – you look radiant." He tells her, before he deposits her back on her dainty feet. Turning to the man in question he grabs for Kevin's outstretched hand and then pulls the smaller man into a hug.

Stepping back he releases Ryan's hand and looks the younger man straight in the eyes.

Deep blue meets bright blue and Castle can still see a certain amount of hesitation shining in his friends eyes.

"Thank you Kevin." He tells him. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving Kate."

The writer is surprised when Kevin Ryan actually looks more uncomfortable than ever in the wake of Castle's gratitude.

Kate seems to sense her partner's need to straighten things out with the detective, and much as she wants her own moment alone with Kevin – there is a lot she wants to tell him – for now she knows Castle needs to get this off his chest so she steers Jenny into the kitchen while she promises her a tour of the place later.

Once the two men are alone, Ryan beats Castle to the punch.

"No thanks needed Castle - I just need to apologize . . . for what's happened with Beckett. I didn't mean to get her suspended, and I never thought for a moment she would take it so hard that she'd quit. I mean I know Captain Gates was mad . . . but if Beckett wants to come back – for what it's worth I think Gates might be willing to at least listen. From what I can tell, she's still listing Beckett as 'suspended on administrative leave', I don't think she's filed any termination paperwork yet."

Kevin looks really distraught now and so Castle takes him by the elbow and steers him in the direction of his office.

"Kate – I want to show Kevin something, we'll be back in a moment okay?" He calls out over his shoulder, before he looks back at Beckett and sends her a meaningful frown, before he tilts his head at her indicating Ryan. Kate gets it immediately and she nods, before she turns her attention back to Jenny and getting her a glass of wine.

Once ensconced in the relative privacy of his office, the writer heads for his more private liquor cabinet and pours himself and Ryan a drink.

"Here." He says to the detective, handing a generous glass of fifty year old scotch over.

"Drink this Kevin before you fall down."

The young Irishman takes a grateful swallow and watches warily as Castle takes a seat on the side of his desk.

"You have nothing – absolutely nothing to apologize to me – or to Kate for." Castle tells him.

Ryan shifts nervously from foot to foot; he looks down into his glass, and then shakes his head sadly.

"I'm dead serious Ryan – you saved Kate's life and it's given me back mine – you saved them both Kevin, and what you did took courage." The writer insists.

"Javi hates me and Beckett quit Castle. But I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't just sit at there at the precinct that day and watch a GPS signal. They were headed into more trouble than they could handle – and they're my partners Castle – I _had_ to protect them. You'd left and you didn't answer my calls that day – I didn't have any place left but Captain Gates to go."

The writer can feel the remorse rolling off his friend; feels his own guilt for walking away from not just Kate, but Kevin and Javi too that day. But it brought he and Kate here – and here is amazing - he just needs to make Ryan see this.

"You know you did the right thing Kevin – you don't need anyone to tell you that." He says quietly, but firmly, faith and conviction in his voice.

Ryan looks up.

"Then how come doing the right thing feels like this then? Seriously Castle, Javier won't even _talk_ to me. He's my partner – he's supposed to be in my corner – with me until the wheels fall off – but he just thinks I betrayed him. And I would _never _do that – but I had to think about his life _first._ His and Beckett's – I couldn't let them die . . . not when it's my job to protect them." He says passionately.

The writer nods in sympathy.

"They know that too – they do – trust me. Kate knows that right now Kevin – and she doesn't blame you at all – not for a second – she's thankful just to be alive – thanks to you – only you. And if Espo hasn't figured it out yet – he will Kevin. He's stubborn and he's hurt because he's probably humiliated that he couldn't protect Beckett that day – but he will see the light in time. Trust me on this . . . Javier is a good man – he'll see how faithfully you had his back in the end."

Ryan takes another large swallow of scotch.

"I really hope you're right Castle – more than anything I just want you all back again. It feels so wrong to be there on my own right now. The precinct just doesn't feel the way it did. I don't . . . I love my job Castle – I love it. But without you guys something is just missing – and I want what's missing to come back."

The young detective looks up. "Will you talk to her Castle – Beckett I mean. She doesn't need to quit – she can still be a cop Castle . . . if she'll just apologize to Gates . . . wait out the suspension . . . ."

The author has to interrupt.

"Kevin – Kate quitting the force wasn't down to her suspension you know."

The blue eyed detective immediately looks confused.

"But it has to be. Beckett's a cop Castle. She's the best homicide in the city – why else would she quit that unless it was the suspension? Beckett lives the job Castle – more than the rest of us do."

The writer smiles.

"And that's exactly why she quit Ryan, because Kate has realized that there are more important things than living her job. Like actually _living_. She's finally able to let it go – her mother's case – all of it - for a chance at a normal life – for a chance at love."

Kevin Ryan's eyes light up with understanding suddenly.

"So she didn't quit because of me, because of the suspension . . . she quit because of you. She just wants you." He says with quiet awe.

Castle smiles as he nods. It's blissful, contented. Happiness practically leaking out of him and covering the room.

It has the effect of making Ryan grin hugely.

"Yeah." The author confirms. "Now you're getting it. Kate has to leave her mother's case alone Kevin – she has too – both for her own sanity and for the sake of her life – or else they will kill her – you can be assured of that. And I can't watch her throw her life away, I can't watch her die Ryan – I love her. That's why I walked away, why I quit the team, and it's because I did that – because I wasn't there to save her that she's here with me now. That we're together finally."

Ryan smiles softly.

"Yeah well that last part I already gathered – Beckett invites us to dinner and it's here at chez Castle – kind of screams 'Mom and Dad' have made up and oh by the way they're doing it now."

Castle can't help it, he smirks.

"Ewww . . . . knock it off bro she's like my sister." Ryan protests.

The author shrugs, refusing to wipe the licentious smile from his face at all.

"You brought it up . . . bro."

Ryan rolls his eyes.

"Just take care of her and we're cool. And before you protest Castle I promise I'll be giving her the 'talk' too. But I'm glad – for both you - its good to know you're happy."

"We are. And before you say anything else Kevin – let me just say this - if Kate decides after some time away that the precinct – that being a cop again is what she wants to do – I'll be fine with that. Honestly. I've haven't brought it up with her and I don't intend too, because if she's certain she's done with it all, and she decides to do something new – that's great. But if in the end, when she's had enough time to heal and to figure out what's next it turns out that 'homicide detective' is still her calling – then I'll be behind her Ryan - one hundred percent. It's her mother's case I need her away from – not anyone else's."

Ryan downs the remainder of the scotch in his glass, before he holds out his hand; and the writer gets up from his perch on his desk and the two friends shake on it.

"I miss you guys. And for selfish reasons I want both of you to come back." The detective says. "But as long as you both promise to stay in my life – mine and Jenny's – I guess I can adjust to us all just being friends."

The writer slides his arm around the younger man's shoulders, leads him back out into the loft's main room where Beckett and Jenny are waiting for them.

"We'll always be your friends Kevin - both of us – your partners in spirit if not in fact – always."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I seem to be finding as many ways as possible to keep having these character's end the chapters with the word 'always'. And it's annoying me – but it just seems to come out that way – so if its bugging you guys too – please don't hesitate to let me know. On another topic – two of my completed stories have been nominated in the 'Castle Fanfic Awards' – I'm seriously honored. So if you liked either of them, please go and vote for them in their respective categories. In fact go and vote anyway – because there are lots of amazing stories on there that you either read or perhaps missed and you should never let a great story go to waste. I didn't get around to thanking you all individually last update – but I will this time (hint) – so thank you for the continued reviews – I know they take time and I really appreciate it.**

* * *

**Chapter Nine:** The best thing that ever happened to you.

* * *

Castle is entertaining Jenny, regaling her with highly salacious stories about his last book tour and why he isn't eager to go on another one - despite the pressure from Black Pawn – and Kate takes the opportunity to drag Ryan into the kitchen with her so she can talk to him alone.

It's been a really wonderful evening.

When the Ryan's arrived Kate could tell her former partner was anxious and worried, Kevin Ryan has far too open and honest a demeanor to hide much of anything. She's always loved that about him – the pureness of his spirit is a bright beacon of light that radiates through. He's honest and earnest through and through, the kind of partner a cop dreams of.

So of course she seriously hates that he's feeling this way – partner-less.

Hates it even more because she feels so completely responsible for it – this is her fault after all – the rift between Espo and Ryan – because she put them both in an impossible situation with her blinkered behavior and now each of them is paying a price.

Kate pulls dessert – a decadent chocolate torte from the best bakery in Manhattan – out of the stainless steel fridge and then dives back in looking for the raspberry coolis to top it with – buying herself some time to figure out what the hell it is that she's actually gonna say.

Dinner conversation has been exactly that – since Castle had his little chat, Kevin has looked a lot more relaxed, but now that she's cornered him, Kate can tell the young detective is once more feeling the heat.

She smiles at him as she opens a kitchen cupboard in search of dessert plates and it's actually this small action that starts them off.

Ryan smiles. It's small and secretive and not much more than the crinkling of his very blue eyes and the press of his lips, but its so sweet and so knowing that Kate can't help it.

"What?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at him and frowning in a way that usually gets him immediately talking – this time however all that happens is a slight increase in the upturn of his lips.

"Seriously Kevin – what?" She repeats, as she places the dessert plates on the marble counter-top and opens the cutlery drawer, scanning for small forks.

"You seem at home here." The young Irishman replies, the shrug of his shoulders indicating the spacious loft around them.

Kate smiles. "You mean because I know where everything is." She replies.

Ryan nods. "That's a part of it for sure. But I mean Castle's been your partner for four years Beckett – so that part is actually easily explained away – it's more the ease with which you move here. The certainty you exhibit in this space. Outside of the precinct, I've never seen you look so at home." He says.

Beckett's eyes widen in surprise for a moment and then she thinks his statement through a little and realizes how true it is that sometimes others see you far more clearly than you can ever see yourself.

"I guess that's true." She says warmly, before she automatically panics a little because she hasn't, even though she kinda has for the time being at least - moved in.

"I haven't moved in you know." She says in a somewhat defensive rush.

Ryan quirks an eyebrow. "Beckett, I wouldn't blame you if you had." He tells her.

She blushes then.

"But you guys _are_ together now." He says, looking over at Castle and Jenny who are laughing together on the couch, and despite his wording it isn't a question - he's just acknowledging it.

Kate nods. "Yes. But moving in . . . " The former cop trails off unsure how to finish that statement. She doesn't want to say it's too soon because she knows Castle is her 'one and done' and she doesn't want to say she isn't ready because that implies she has doubts – which she doesn't. The truth is she wants Castle not to feel any sort of pressure or anxiety of any kind right now – and he's wanted her to stay – so she's just stayed.

The uncertainty now on her face must telegraph – and Ryan immediately misreads it.

"He loves you – you understand that right?" He asks her with a suddenly serious expression on his handsome face. Concern bubbles in those endlessly compassionate eyes of his – and Kate realizes, startled – that he's totally worried about Castle here."

She goes to respond but Kevin beats her to it.

"Look I've already had the talk with him about taking care of you – but I gotta say this Beckett – I'm actually more worried about him in this relationship than you. He told me you quit the job because you just wanted to be with him – and damn it Beckett the man had stars in his eyes when he said it. So please just tell me that you know what you're doing here – that you aren't going to pull back from him again when you're further from everything that triggered this . . . change." He says carefully.

She grabs his arm, squeezes it hard for emphasis.

"Never. I'll never hurt him deliberately Kevin. Not ever."

The handsome cop studies her intently, just like he would any suspect in his interrogation room – but Kate is resolute, knows the absolute truth behind her words so she has no trouble holding his gaze firmly.

"Good." He says at length. "Because you didn't see him last summer Beckett – and I did – pretty much every day. And it wasn't pretty."

Kate squeezes his arm again.

"You're a good friend Ryan – to both of us." She says softly.

The detective studies her face again silently before he nods and smiles again.

"OK. Consider that the 'talk' then with you. Just be happy Beckett – God knows you both deserve it."

He steps into her and hugs her hard. "I miss you guys." He says sadly into the space over her shoulder, it hurts, so she holds onto him tighter.

"We miss you too." She tells him, before she steps back and both of them look away while they each take a moment to get their emotions back under control.

Kate turns back to her dessert prep and busies herself with cutting generous portions of the decadent chocolate creation Castle introduced her too. Her stomach is still twisting somewhat though – still things she needs to say to him.

"I owe you an apology Kevin." She says quietly, her back still to him as she places pieces of dessert on four plates.

He doesn't agree, because somehow she can feel him shaking his head behind her even though she can't currently see him.

"No Beckett. You don't." He replies.

His tone is firm and gentle, she knows he believes this, but he's still wrong – she does owe him – she owes him more than she is ever going to be able to repay.

She turns to face him once more, her mouth trembling a little around the edges, but you'd have to know her really well to see it.

"I'm so sorry Ryan – for putting you in the situation I did. For not listening to you – when you were the only one of us seeing the bigger picture. I was just so convinced I could handle him – Maddox – so convinced that Espo and I alone could take him down. And I'm so grateful to you for what you did – that you made that tough call – you saved my life Kevin . . . and if you want I'll talk to Javi for you – I owe him an apology too. No way he should be blaming you for this Ryan . . . I did this – to all of us . . .and I'll fix it – somehow . . .I . . "

The young detective interrupts at this point.

"Beckett . . . No. Javi is my problem okay – you stay out of it. And I'm sorry I got you suspended. I think Gates was overly hard on you guys . . . but I'm sure she's calmed down by now. Javi is due back tomorrow actually – not that I think he's going to want to work with me anymore – but forget that for now - you could come back Kate. You didn't have to give it all up."

She shakes her head.

"Didn't you listen to Castle at all?" She says, eyebrow rising and love sick smile crawling all over her lovely features.

Ryan nods.

"I did. I did listen. But Beckett . . . seriously, you're a cop. You're an amazing cop – I just don't . . . if you're not a cop, what are you going to do?" He asks incredulously.

She surprises him by laughing and rolling her eyes.

Ryan looks appalled. "I mean apart from _Castle . . . _damn it Beckett – you know what I mean – and I said 'what' not 'who'."

She laughs again, and her former partner can't help but see the same elation in Kate that he saw earlier in the author. They are joyful – now that they're together – lit up inside in a way he's never seen in either of them before.

"Of course I know what you meant." She retorts. "And right now, I have no clue. Not one. And believe it or not Kevin, I'm totally fine with that. I need a break right now Ryan. So much has happened to me in the last year or so . . . I just want to _stop_ right now. Smell the roses. Be with the man I love and let the summer just take care of itself. I just want to live for a while – enjoy the best thing that has ever happened to me and then . . . we'll see."

The cop smiles widely now, blue eyes dancing and crinkles at the corners. "Best thing that ever happened to you huh?" He says, his voice rising questioningly.

If he's expecting her to backtrack or ask him not to tell Castle she said that he's going to be disappointed.

"Damn straight." She tells him.

"So this is . . . you guys are truly in this for the long haul?" He asks.

Kate nods.

"For good Ryan. For always."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Don't want to give the contents of the chapter away – so let me just tell you there is a disclaimer at the end. **

* * *

**Chapter Ten: **Kiss you inside out.

* * *

Castle's tired when he walks through the front door of the loft. Summer has hit Manhattan in June – highly unusual – and the temperatures are in already in the low eighties. His midnight-blue dress shirt is sticking to him and his fully air-conditioned home is a blessing. He sighs with contentment. Dumping the jacket he's been carrying around all day on the back of the closest couch, he looks around him. The loft's blinds are all drawn and the place is dim and quiet – no Kate to be seen. Figures his day was scheduled to get worse. It's only 3pm but he's been up since before 7 – dragging himself _so_ reluctantly out of her tender embrace and depositing himself reluctantly under a cooling shower.

Meetings with his publisher – boring ones at that have sucked the life out of most of his day. He's been at Black Pawn's swanky suite of offices in mid-town (the ones he just knows he's helping to pay for) by 8.30am this morning. His ex-wife was in fine form – promptly handing him a whole slew of edits, 'suggestions' she called them – for 'Frozen Heat', before she'd dragged him down into publicity and proceeded to erode his day.

The funniest thing is he used to love it. Well maybe not edits, those are always tiresome but Gina is a talented editor, and while he doesn't always comply with her requests – it's his book at the end of the day – her work is thorough and professional and on the whole takes his 'good' novel closer to 'great'. Now the thought of yet more 'editing' of his completed work is just time away from Kate. That's been true since the first Nikki Heat novel and it's only more so now.

As for publicity – now this he really, really used to love. All of it was fun. From the planning of the launch, to choosing the cover-art and then deciding on whether to use a new 'author' photo on the book's rear cover. Book tours and press releases and organizing the post-release 'book tour', these were the trappings of real success in his world – and he reveled in it. Now – well he knows the art department will kill the cover – and it takes him like two minutes to choose – but Black Pawn executives have to agree and therefore that meeting takes hours. His author photo is fine – he's getting older – hell yes let them use an old one. As for book tours – Urghhh – he's not supposed to hate the idea of it – he used to live for them – and now he doesn't like to look too closely at why that changed.

He knows why – of course he does - Kate Beckett. Book tours also mean time away from Kate Beckett and since 'Heat Wave' he's just never really wanted to go.

The writer meanders into his bedroom and finds that empty too. Kate's made the bed – far more tidily than he ever does, but some of her clothes are still draped over the armchair in the corner and her scent still lingers in the air. He breathes deep. Can't contain the satisfied and silly happy smile, and he wonders where she is today – what she's doing and whether he can arrange to join her – his lethargy dissipating under just the sense of her in the air.

Castle heads for the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes as he goes. He's done with dressing up for the day. He turns the giant shower on and hops under the forceful spray. The water temp is only tepid, and it feels wonderful against his overheated skin, sluicing off the city grime in moments as the relentless pounding of his twin expensive shower-heads relaxes the stress in his upper body.

He can detect her in here too. The subtle scent of her current shampoo sinks into his pores – tempting him to use it himself but he doesn't actually want to smell like a girl. He shampoos his hair, drags the soap over his tanned skin and once he's rinsed he exits and pads naked and dripping over to the linen closet in search of a dry towel.

Minutes later he emerges from the walk-in closet clad in khaki shorts and a simple white t-shirt.

The writer is about to find his phone – and then find his girlfriend when he realizes he can hear music.

He heads out into the loft's great room and standing in the middle of the space he listens intently again. Yep – definitely music. The soft and upbeat strains of an unfamiliar melody are drifting down from upstairs, carried on a faint breeze and one thing Castle does know – Alexis is definitely not home today.

Which might just mean that he can forgo his search and discard his phone – because Kate still is – and that's - awesome.

His daughter had plans all day today. A picnic with Paige and some other friends who are all heading to Columbia in the fall – she said she'd be back late – and while he adores his child – Kate _and _an empty home, finally his day is getting better.

Suddenly eager and impatient, energized as only the prospect of seeing her can make him Castle heads for the staircase and takes the steps two at a time. At the top he listens again – the only logical place up here for Kate to be is on the roof – and for one heart-stopping moment he suddenly can't see.

Images of her dangling by her fingertips flash before his eyes – he blinks and forces the terrifying vision away. This is his home – this is a safe place, but then he recalls all he's previously written happening to Nikki in the confines of her apartment and then he's practically racing down the hallway, finding the steps up to the rooftop garden at the end and stepping into the pool of bright light that cascades down into the loft from the open doorway at the top.

The music is loud now – pop music – he vaguely recalls hearing this tune on the car radio once before – and Kate leaning over him to turn it up – telling him how this was her new favorite song from some popular Canadian band.

Where is she?

He's up the steps in a flash – haunting images mocking him as he tells himself to calm the hell down because he's being ridiculous and then he's blinking furiously in the bright sunshine of the garden, the heat hitting him, his gaze seeking her desperately.

And as his eyes find her – safe of course – all the breath in his body whooshes out of his lungs in a heady rush; and the writer is held spellbound, entranced, as ever – by the breath-stealing form of the woman he loves.

Kate is dancing.

And best of all she's completely unaware that he's even there.

Her phone is docked into these portable speakers that had been residing on a shelf in his office, and from them music pours out into the air around her – while she's laughing and singing and just . . . dancing to the beat.

It's just . . . magical. She's the most perfect thing he's ever seen.

Hair in a simple ponytail, sunglasses on her face, Beckett is wearing these tiny white shorts and a blue tank top over what he thinks is a string bikini underneath, her feet are bare.

She spins and laughs as she hums through a bridge of music and then she begins to sing again.

_I wanna know you inside out . . . I'll spend my life trying to figure out._

_Just close your eyes and shut your mouth._

_And let me kiss you inside out._

Her hips sway in time to the snappy beat, she jumps and laughs and then she's singing once more, her soft voice far more beautiful to his ears than the recorded voice that is singing with her.

_I don't mind if you lie in my bed . . . we can stay here forever now._

_Turn off the lights . . . take off your clothes . . . turn on the stereo._

He's laughing with her, the noise hidden, muffled by the sheer volume of the song . . . but his chest is tight witnessing her when she's this carefree . . . his love for her too much – uncontainable - no place left inside him for it to go.

_Give up the fight . . . I'm in control . . . why don't you let it go._

The writer has to move. As much as watching her like this is intoxicating, he wants her in arms, against his body. He needs her skin under his hands, and her lips beneath his . . . now.

He catches her just as she spins again, pulling her into his arms and lifting her clean off her feet as he gathers her up, pulls her close, buries his face against her neck - exposed to him so perfectly by the ponytail in her hair.

Kate startles only for moment, a fleeting tension apparent in her lithe form that he goes to berate himself for before she relaxes almost immediately once she realizes it's only him. Her arms band tightly around his neck, and she tugs his face free, urges it up as she pushes her sunglasses away from her face and instantly kisses him.

He breathes her name into the kiss – greedy and desperate and he can feel her smiling into it, soothing his urgency away with the gentle caress of her tongue against his.

She's beaming when she pulls back to look at him.

"You're home." She says – stating the obvious. "How were your meetings – apart from long?"

He kisses the tip of her nose – he loves to do that – before he groans as an answer.

The minx laughs at him.

"That bad huh Castle? Big baby – this is the stuff you should be having fun with – the hard part – the writing is done." She says smiling down into his frowning face with her eyebrow raised and her lips quirking lopsidedly.

He stares back, wonders how – after so many years around her, her beauty can still have the capacity to blindside him.

"Rather have been here with you." He manages to mumble.

"Dancing to Hedley in the sunshine?" She asks.

The author deposits her back on her feet, leans over so he can hit the back arrow on the touch-screen of her i-phone and as the song she was listening to begins to repeat he pulls her back into his arms once more.

Then he dances with her.

Listening closely to the lyrics he finds himself as caught up in the song as she was, so he murmurs into her ear . . .

"Just close your eyes and shut your mouth . . . and let me kiss you inside out."

**Disclaimer:**

**The lyrics in this passage belong to the group 'Hedley', and are from the song 'Kiss You Inside Out'. It's the most perfect 'Caskett' summer song you can imagine from an awesome Canadian Band – if you have a moment you should check it out.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Angst just refuses to come out right now – there's too much out there and I'm overloaded with it, so here you can have unoriginal ending words (again) and more sap. True story – my husband and I have fought over this topic – more than once – and yeah it's sad – I know.**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**: The 3am redux.

* * *

It was a stupid argument – Kate can totally admit that now.

Now that she's curled up alone in a cold and empty bed – ok so it's actually far too hot in New York right now for her bed to actually _be_ cold – but nevertheless it sure feels like it is.

Cold and empty . . . and Castle-less.

Sucks.

And though there is certainly one part of her that is _pissed_ that she's addicted to the sensation of him lying there next to her, after less than two months of a romantic relationship – sheeesh – it's a small part. An old part – and she supposes it's just that she feels like she should not miss him – should not let herself be dependent on him – on anyone – as dumb an idea as that is.

Because invariably - people are dependent on each other.

It's in our very natures - we are social creatures.

And hasn't she come far enough in this last year to stop being afraid of that dependency? Isn't she able to acknowledge it now - her fear of hurting, of loss – and yet be able to move past it and allow herself to love – to need – to live – despite it?

Okay so she _can _admit it – lying here lonely and missing him in the dark of her apartment.

She doesn't like sleeping without him now – without his scent and his warmth surrounding her – that sense of rightness that settles bone-deep within her as she falls into unconsciousness with him beside her.

So what in the hell is she doing here again?

Restless and missing him and able to acknowledge that this is not where she wants to be because of a silly argument they should have managed to resolve in the first place.

She is better than this now – better than ignoring truths by burying her head in the sand – they both are.

It occurs to her that she wants to go home – and Kate smiles in the darkness – because that thought isn't attached to 'Castle's home' – she just means the man himself. By his side is 'home' – actual geographic location doesn't matter in the slightest – although his bed is undoubtedly much nicer and his sheets are positively sinful.

She can admit that too – less than two months of his lifestyle and she's totally spoiled.

The former cop sits up in her bed and pushes her hair out of her face with a sigh - enough of this now – someone has to make the first move and what does it matter if it's her instead of him?

Feeling emboldened now that she's taking action and breaking her prior patterns, Beckett hurries to dress in the dark and grabbing her phone and keys she heads for her apartment exit. Mentally cataloging she realizes she does indeed have clean clothes at Castle's place – in fact she has everything she needs there – him most of all – dumb disagreement notwithstanding. Pulling open her apartment door, she jumps out of her skin and then has to quickly stifle her scream when something dark and large falls back into her apartment with it.

It's a body, her heart rate soars and then the body groans and moves and . . .

"Castle?"

Her boyfriend looks up at her bleary eyed from the floor. She knows that look intimately now – Castle freshly roused from sleep. He blinks, goes to smile and then must remember they're fighting because his expression shutters – mostly – hints of defiance around the edges, and then he rolls to his side and pushes to his feet facing her.

He looks at her silently, takes in her clothed appearance and the keys in her hand.

"Going somewhere?" He says warily – his blue eyes suddenly full of questions – and hope, sparkles of emotion uncontainable within them. He surely doesn't need to ask her that – she can tell he doesn't – he knows exactly where she was headed.

She smiles at him. Closes the distance between them and burrows herself into his arms until they fold warmly around her – waits until his chin rests on the top of her head before she allows herself the sigh of pleasure that's been desperate to escape at just the sight of him.

"Same place as you Rick." She mumbles into his broad chest.

He doesn't follow, she can tell by the breath suddenly suspended within him – a pause, where he tries to figure her out.

"I came here to apologize, Kate – but I don't have a key and when I got here – well then I didn't want to wake you and . . . I figured you were already mad enough at me – I didn't want you to add pissing off your neighbors at 3am to the list of complaints . . . "

He trails off just as she gets riled up enough to interrupt.

"List of complaints? Castle . . . I'm the one who's sorry – it was such a dumb thing for us to fight about – washing up? Really? So you run the water and I fill the sink when there's too much to get in the dishwasher. It's retarded that we actually had a disagreement over it. And even dumber of me to leave just because you pointed out correctly – that it was _your_ home."

The writer interrupts her here.

"But I was wrong. You – you are home. My home I mean . . . wherever you are . . ."

". . . is where I want to be." She finishes for him.

Castle pulls back so he can look down at her.

"So you were coming to me – just as I came to you?" He states.

Beckett stretches up and kisses him, slow and sweet, apology and forgiveness.

"Yeah." She tells him nodding. "I was coming home – not to the loft – just to your side."

Love lights up his face.

"Home to you is by my side?" He asks.

Kate nods again.

"You know it writer-man . . ." She punctuates each letter with a kiss. a –l –w –a- y-s."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: **Panic mode.

* * *

"I feel like Elizabeth Bennett." She says to him as she senses his presence suddenly on the huge balcony behind her.

The sun is shining down on them, and the breeze caressing her skin carries the familiar ocean scent of salt into her nostrils – its so unbelievably pleasant compared to the summer oven New York had become.

Castle settles against her, the warmth of him covering her back completely as his arms entwine themselves around her waist and his chin dips to rest on her right shoulder. He chuckles softly at her 'Pride and Prejudice' reference – the vibrations traveling through her and warming her soul.

"How so?" He asks, his clear blue eyes staring straight at the ocean where it sits in front of them. The view of the private beach from the master-suite of his Hampton's home is nothing short of stunning, and he's so ridiculously happy that she's finally the person who's up here with him.

Summer in the city can be just as miserable as he described it in 'Heat Wave', although of course thankfully New York isn't actually surviving through a garbage strike. But nonetheless Manhattan had become stifling, and so he's whisked Kate away to the beach for a couple of weeks - now that his new book and his meetings for the launch of it are all behind him. The author figured it would be a wonderful break from the oppressive city heat for the both of them.

Even with the current cloudless sunshine – its always so much cooler with an ocean breeze on the coast.

Within the circle of his arms Kate turns suddenly, her face is relaxed but there is something – just something sitting in her gaze that causes him an immediate if only mild concern.

It prompts him to repeat his question.

"How so?" He says softly, but really wanting an answer now when her eyes shutter just a little bit and her bottom lip is sucked between her teeth.

"Remember that scene in Derbyshire . . . when Lizzy is vacationing with her aunt and uncle?" She asks.

Castle's eyes scrunch up as he searches through his knowledge of Austen's most famous and classic work – it takes him a long moment but it comes to him eventually and he understands where she's coming from.

"You mean when Lizzy sees Darcy's estate 'Pemberley' for the first time." He says with a smile, a hint of pride creeping into his eyes.

Beckett nods.

"I've always loved the book more from that point onwards." She confesses. "I mean Darcy's already in love with her by that point – and he's proposed, but Lizzy still can't stand him. Then there's that moment when she visits Pemberley – sees it and absorbs it for the first time in all its perfect grandeur. She hears these glowing accounts of his character from his staff, and then it hits her '_of all this I might have been mistress!'_ "

Castle laughs. "So it really does suck for me then I didn't get you out here sooner!

She playfully slaps him.

Smiling now, Kate looks around her once more. Castle's so called Hamptons 'beach house' is nothing of the kind. Expecting something nice – but smallish, tasteful and fortunately located right on the beach – it turns out the place is far more like a beachfront mansion. Two stories of sprawling neo-classic all white American architecture, well manicured grounds and equipped with literally everything.

Separate guest house – this place has one.

Swimming pool with Jacuzzi hot-tub – ditto.

Four car detached garage.

Media room.

Library – damn the library – pure book lover heaven.

Seven bedrooms – all of them en-suite.

A huge gourmet kitchen that she just can't wait to see him cooking in.

Beautiful landscaped garden - there's even a wine cellar – like an actual wine _cellar_.

And as for the master bedroom . . . well its double door-ed, California king-ed, all white and soft blues with a spacious ocean-view balcony with its own outdoor fireplace in the center of it, and it has a bathroom with a tub that is most definitely built for two.

This place is a dream – a multi . . . multi . . . million dollar dream.

And while she's always known he was rich (didn't she feel a little bit this way the first time she saw the loft) this sudden overt display of it is . . . staggering.

So yes she thinks, as she looks up at him now – at his handsome face all glowing with pride that she likes his out-of-city retreat . . . she feels a bit like Lizzy Bennett did seeing Pemberley – kinda of – but in a good way – overwhelmed.

Still holding her tightly in his arms, Castle bends to kiss her, brushing his happiness across her lips temptingly, luring her out to play with him. Kate doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, loving how her passion for him just wells up and overrides everything with the merest brush of his lips.

Pemberley is forgotten as he drags her back inside without a protest, because they are completely alone and he wants to start – 'christening' things.

* * *

She watches him make dinner from a stool next to the island in the center of the kitchen.

Some 'secret' Castle pasta dish that she already knows has a sauce that's truly to die for. He made it for her the first time, the second night that they were together. It seems it's Alexis' favorite, and he'd promised his newly graduated daughter he'd cook it for her that night. Kate hadn't even planned on being there, but to her delight the teenager had been the one to insist she stay.

This is the first time though that he's truly making it just for her – and as she sips her very fine glass of Malbec, she watches him contentedly. She's come to love just watching him do things – even as having all this free time on her hands is finally beginning to wear on her.

"Can I do anything to help?" She asks him.

But he just shakes his head as he focuses on another boiling pot, and then he unwittingly crashes their evening down upon them when he says,

"Nope, just sit there and look pretty."

_What the?_

Her stomach drops and all that was bubbling happiness within her grows still and cold.

Kate slips off the stool, sets her glass of wine on the counter-top before her and shoots him a desperate glance that buried in his cooking he doesn't look up to see, then she wanders unnoticed outside.

Suddenly the quiet and the twilight that's coming - some solitude, is just what she needs. So Kate pads on bare feet past the pool and across the lawn until she reaches the gate that separates the main house from the beach. She unlatches it and continues onto the sand – still warm beneath her pedicured toes from the heat of a scorching day. She crosses the sixty feet or so to the water's edge and stands there quietly, lets the waves lap over her – and fights back the tears.

Castle didn't mean to insult her. She knows he didn't, he'd never . . . it's not the way it sounded – that much she's sure of. He was just making a joke and telling her to relax while he spoiled her and she's totally misconstruing this. Taking something out of context and wallowing like an ass - and yet when she turns to look back in the direction that she came, when she takes in the house and all of its magnificence once again, she loses the battle with her angry tears.

Even if she's not exactly sure what in the hell she's crying about – only that it involves her sense of self-worth and suddenly . . . she's floundering.

* * *

When Castle looks up from dinner prep the next time, just about to ask Kate whether she'd like another glass of red, he finds himself completely alone in the kitchen.

Frowning, the author looks over into the family room . . . no Kate.

He calls for her.

No reply.

Weird that she would disappear on him without saying anything. Then he wonders if she just left him engrossed while she went to the washroom. He picks up his own glass of wine and seats himself on the stool Kate was previously occupying. Dinner just needs to cook now so he'd wanted to ask Kate what she'd like to plan for tomorrow – there is so much in the neighborhood that he'd like to show her. Of course hanging out by the pool together also suits him just fine . . . he just wants to be with her . . . he doesn't care about anything else.

Ten minutes later he's growing antsy when she hasn't returned. Her glass of wine has just been left here on the counter . . . so he goes in search of her.

Castle wanders through the ground floor of the house but cannot find her anywhere, so he takes the main staircase two at a time and heads for his bedroom . . . no Kate either. He's just about to head downstairs again, look for her out by the pool when he glances through the glass doors to the balcony and beyond that to the beach.

And he spies her in the fading light.

A lonely figure on the empty sand . . . and he knows, he just knows . . . something is wrong.

* * *

Castle approaches her slowly, but he makes no attempt to mask the sound of his footfalls on the beach.

She stands facing the ocean with her arms wrapped around her torso, her posture tight and tension filled and it warns him somehow . . . to talk to her . . . but not to touch – and he hates that. He hates it.

He comes until he's only three feet from her . . . and then he's hit with a wave of _something_ as it rolls off of her, and he suddenly feels helpless . . . so he stops, just stands there and he waits her out.

* * *

She senses him behind her somehow the moment, the very moment when his feet hit the sand. It's like an extension of her usual awareness of him – that electricity that's always zinged between them; only now that he's her lover it's so much surer. She senses him now physically in the space around her – his own energy not just their chemistry – and she knows he's dying to reach out for her . . . she waits . . . but then he doesn't.

"Hey." He says quietly, but she doesn't turn around.

"Hey." She replies.

She can feel him vibrating with hesitation.

"Kate . . . please just tell me what's wrong?"

'Nothing' is on the tip of her tongue – a reflex. How can she explain when she already feels foolish that one silly, innocuous, comment from him has brought harsh reality down on her now of all times. But she's vowed to herself to try and never exclude him deliberately again . . . she's vowed it, and dammit she will try.

Kate turns around and Castle's horrified by her damp eyes and the battle he can see her waging internally as it dances in her green eyes.

He steps closer, close enough to touch her now, but he fists his hands to prevent it.

"You were so happy earlier . . . I don't understand." He confesses.

She can see his confusion in the tightness of his jaw, and she wishes he would just envelop her . . . drive her out of the doldrums with the magic of his arms around her. But he holds himself rigidly away from her, as if he knows somehow that touching her might prevent her from _talking_ to him. And he knows that she knows that _talking_ is what she actually needs.

"Kate?" He prompts.

"I'm just . . . "She starts. But then she flails . . . she takes a deep breath – she has to stop caring if it sounds stupid.

"I'm more than a pretty face and a hot body Castle." It comes out in a rush.

He looks more confused in the wake of it.

"I'm sorry . . . what?" He asks.

"In the kitchen . . . you told me to . . . " She starts.

". . . sit there and look pretty." He finishes. And then he looks at her askance.

"Of course you are. I mean didn't mean to imply . . . I would . . . come on Kate you know I could never – me of all people – I would never think otherwise."

* * *

He's offended and he should be because she's seriously having a break here or something.

Unable to hold herself apart from him a moment she closes the couple of feet between them and wraps her arms around his neck. Her body comes to rest all along his, and he's so solid and so warm and she loves him so much. She isn't less than she was because her professional life is in a shambles . . . she isn't a kept woman . . . this is all just ridiculous really and her face flames. His strong fingers come to rest on her hips, he holds her but so tentatively.

"Seriously . . . what's really wrong Kate? We've flung banter and insults back and forth between us as partners for years. I know that comment didn't bother you once you thought about it _at all_. So talk to me Beckett . . . now." He demands of her.

She looks up at him and shrugs with a small self-deprecating smile.

"Castle I'm unemployed."

"So?"

"I'm thirty two years old and I have no idea what I'm doing with my life other than loving you."

He goes to protest but a she silences him with an eyebrow.

"And loving you is wonderful . . . it's everything and it has nothing to do with the fact that I have no clue about the rest of it. It's the rest of it that's the problem Rick . . . and if you're thinking _why now?_ Look back at that gorgeous house Castle, at all you've accomplished all by yourself professionally and . . . I can't help it . . .I knew this was coming at some point – and today in the face of all of this it just . . . "

He finishes for her.

"Came crashing down." He says.

Kate nods miserably.

"I knew it would and yet I've kept hoping it wouldn't. I just feel . . . adrift Castle. Lacking any real purpose other than you, and I need . . . more than that."

He smiles brilliantly at her.

"Of course you do Kate – of course you should. And you will figure this out, and if being here is causing you this discomfort then we don't have to stay. We can just spend the night and go . . . "

She silences him with a kiss. A fierce kiss that has her tangling her tongue with his. Because he always makes such an effort to understand . . . but she _loves_ this amazing place and she _so_ doesn't want to leave. When she pulls back he looks at her quietly . . . waiting.

"I don't want to leave Castle – it's so perfectly beautiful here. I want to stay."

"But . . . "

She shakes her head at him.

"No buts. Like you said I'll figure it out. And I'm sorry Castle . . . for reacting so . . . weirdly to what you said. I know you were just being sweet."

He nuzzles her nose.

"Sweet on you maybe. You _will_ figure this out Kate – your future. And as long as I'm in it like this – (he kisses her) – then whatever other choices you make it'll work out. There is no shame in not knowing what you want to do right now. It's not like you've drifted your whole life and you've spent years not making a decision. You've given up more than a job - remember. You've given up a career that you'd let _define_ you. I can understand that more than most people Kate because I am what I _do_. I get it. But you are way more than what you do – what you did I mean. You are so very much more."

He gazes down her at with such total sincerity and she realizes that she does _know_ this.

_I wanna be more than who I am._

That she's been working on discovering exactly this for a year already – who she is outside of the job – outside of the quest – even outside of loving Castle.

And it calms her.

"Dinner." She tells him suddenly. Unwrapping her arms from around his neck and grabbing for his hand instead.

"Dinner?"

She tugs him back up the sand.

"I want my delicious dinner Castle. And over dinner lets revisit all those crazy ideas of yours about possible careers shall we? Maybe the sheer lunacy will help set me on a new course."

Grinning he starts before they even hit the garden.

"Oh I've got a great one already . . . I could even help you." He says.

Her eyebrow rises as she looks at him – just waiting for it.

"What?" She asks.

He smiles wickedly, heat floods his eyes.

"Luxury mattress tester." He tells her.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: And yes - this is the weird ass idea that started it all.  
**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: **How to build sandcastles.

* * *

She blows the long tendrils of her sweaty hair out of her eyes, and sits back on her haunches to admire her handiwork. Not bad she thinks, the moat needs to be a little deeper . . . but on the whole that's a damn fine sandcastle she's constructed over the last four hours. Damn fine.

And to think . . . Castle implied she'd need help and that he was willing to 'teach' her.

_As if?_

Leaning over again, Kate notices her back is aching and her shoulders and arms are protesting at the action, but she grabs for her borrowed spade and gets back to extending the depth of her moat again anyway.

Her sandcastle totally rules and this is so a competition she intends to win.

They've both been on the beach since breakfast, and the day is just beautiful. The heat that was so insanely oppressive back in the city is nothing but pleasant here – goes to show what an ocean breeze can do for you.

And while Kate's still feeling quite a bit of what she was experiencing that first night they got here – overwhelmed by her jobless situation and envious of all its so evident her partner has achieved - her frame of mind is certainly better. For instance she's able to discern that it's _envy_ she feels surrounded by his success - not jealously – most definitely.

She envies his purpose, how he is what he is and that he'll never have to question his profession, or ask himself the questions preying upon her – 'what do I do now?' She was once that much a part of what she did too – and while she wouldn't change her decision – not when it's brought her Castle – she does now still find herself dealing with questions she'd never thought she'd have to answer.

And answers just aren't coming to her anyhow.

So she's back to enjoying herself for these two weeks they plan to spend together out here. To just live in the moment and revel in the vacation and leave the answers until the city is home again once more.

Which is, of course - exactly why Rick's managed to talk her into building sandcastles with him today – well not _with him_ really – there's a bet on this now between the pair of them – Kate versus Rick, five hours to complete the mission and may the best sandcastle win. Netflix rights for the remainder of their vacation for the winner and all kitchen duties (including all coffee) handed off to the loser.

Kate smiles evilly as she digs the moat still deeper - she's supremely confident that she's going to kick both his ass . . . and his ego.

_Teach her – indeed._

To keep things fair and ensure neither of them can steel the other ones creative ideas - Castle put up a truly giant blue tarp as a wind-breaker/screen between them. And from the mansion's pool house the author pulled out every kind of spade, shovel and bucket imaginable. If it could be used to aid in the construction it was coming with them, so thus kitted out - the competition began.

Kate glances at her watch again – twenty minutes left to go. She grabs for the water bottle she's kept stashed at her side, finally drains it dry and eyes her almost finished creation with pride. Just a few finishing touches here and there and then . . . 'Oh Rick' she thinks . . . you are so going down.

* * *

The other side of the blue tarpaulin, Richard Castle . . . best-selling author, eyes his own creation critically. The damn thing is huge . . . and masterful and . . . damn he hopes this is okay . . . he hopes Kate 'gets' it. He's a little worried he's taking a risk here . . . concern buzzing in his veins like alcohol and he's truly a bit afraid that this is tactless on his part.

But there's another part – and it's the bigger part that really, really wants her to love it. For almost five hours he's been working on this labor of love. Piling the sand high and sculpting it with his hands and his mind. Its more ambitious than anything he's attempted of this ilk before – even during the many summers when he and Alexis would try to out-do themselves every day.

This is the most special, most daring . . . (and he hopes that in some way it can be considered 'romantic') thing he's ever tried to construct of out sand . . .and after all this worry and work . . . 'please' he thinks . . .'please just let her like it.'

Castle glances at his watch and realizes the minutes are truly ticking down now . . . in fact – he's done already, and although he's now getting nervous – its time to taken the tarpaulin down - with a little fanfare – of course.

The writer pushes himself to his feet, takes a deep breath and calls out to her.

"Beckett."

He can hear her puffing over something – so he waits for a moment before he calls out to her again.

"Kate – are you ready?"

Mad clattering as she moves buckets and spades.

"Ah . . . yeah" She call back.

She doesn't sound very convinced.

"Are you sure? I can extend you fifteen extra minutes before we agree that you lose." He shouts.

Smiling, he can hear the eye roll even if he cannot see it.

"I said I was ready Castle – but if _you_ need some extra time before the ass-whooping I'm sure I can be generous enough to grant it to you." She retorts.

"Thank you." He calls sarcastically. "But unneeded - although I do have a request . . . can I see yours first?" He asks. Two sets of fingers cross behind his back – this will work out so much better if he can persuade her do the reveal his way.

"Why can't you just take down the tarp and we'll look together?" She asks.

"_Pleeaassase_." He responds – hopefully with enough 'whine' coating the syllables to coax her.

He waits through a long moment with bated breath, until he hears her sigh – loudly.

_Yes!_

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Come on over Castle . . . "She tells him.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

* * *

He's such a child sometimes . . . a child with a definite flair for the dramatic, so although Kate would have preferred them to reveal their masterpieces to each other simultaneously . . . she just doesn't have it in her today when she's relaxed to refuse him this. Besides . . . he sounds a little worried – just a tad – some kind of apprehension creeping into the velvet tones of his voice and that has her instantly fascinated. Maybe for all his 'sandcastle' tutorial big talk he's thinking she'll win.

Which she will.

So let him look already.

He appears around the corner of the blue tarp at this point, just his head, poking around the edge behind her, blue eyes bright with wonder.

"Wow." He says. Coming completely around the fabric and taking up residence beside her.

"You like it?" She asks smugly, a shit-eating grin stretching her face wide and glee lighting up her irises.

"Pretty impressive huh Castle?

The writer nods – his mouth agape. Kate's sandcastle is actually pretty huge – and elaborate. And he wouldn't have expected her to have clearly built so much of it by hand before she resorted to the buckets with the ramparts built into them which she's used to enormous effect all along the top.

She's even built her creation a suitably deep moat with a single bridge and carved into the sand a large castle door, windows . . . even arrow slits. It's brilliant . . . and he just . . . he loves it.

"I love you." He what he says though and Kate turns to him her eyes shining. She's sweaty from a combination of sun and exertion, hints of sunburn in the rosy glow of her cheeks. Her hair is messy; her previously perky ponytail has slipped low on the back of her head, and half of it hanging out in stringy strands - a corona around her face.

And she looks happy, content . . . she's having fun and he did that. He did that – and its just everything.

"So?" She asks, nodding her head in the direction of her morning's endeavor. "Do I win or what?"

He pretends to think about it but he nods smiling.

"Hands down." He responds. "Best sandcastle on the beach."

But instead of smiling, his partner frowns, her eyebrow climbing.

"That was too easy – come on Castle – what gives?"

He hopes he's pulling off shocked.

"Nothing. Best sandcastle – you totally win."

Kate shakes her head and then grabs decidedly for his ear.

"Owww . . . jeez." He yelps.

"Spill it. Did you not build a sandcastle on the other side of that tarp Rick? You've had me slaving away over mine for five hours . . . you'd better have been building one." She tells him sternly, squeezing his poor abused lobe before she lets him go.

"Well . . . about that." He begins.

"CASTLE! Seriously . . . "She trails off and to his concealed delight she stalks around him, clears the tarp and stops dead in her tracks with him on her heels.

"Oh my God . . . . Rick?"

* * *

Moment of truth he thinks.

"See it's not technically a sandcastle . . . "He says.

In front of him Kate shakes her head.

"I can see that . . . Castle . . . . This is a sand sculpture . . . when did you . . . I mean how did you ever learn to do this? This is . . . its amazing." She breathes.

And she's right – it is.

Bigger than her castle, (which actually only lies a mere four feet to the left if they take the blue tarpaulin down) the writer's 'sand sculpture' can justifiably be called huge. And it's definitely not a 'castle' of any kind . . . made by a Castle for sure . . . but her partner's creation is . . . and then Kate thinks . . . and she gets suddenly that there's _more _to it and she spins around.

"You built me a dragon?" She whispers.

Castle smiles awkwardly, his heart in his eyes as he nods. And it's a beautiful sand-dragon too. Twelve feet long with a curling tail and enormous head. The writer has carved into it almost every scale. Large eyes, huge teeth and flared nostrils the beast looks like it could get up off of the sand at any moment and breath fire . . . huge paws with massive claws . . . Kate's never seen anything quite like it – is truly amazed that her partner could even do this.

"Yeah - a dragon . . . you know - to go with your Castle." He says quietly, tilting his head towards her decorative pile of sand.

He steps closer and takes her hand in his.

"I thought maybe together we could slay it." He says earnestly, scanning her face for any sign that he's screwed up here –caused her any distress, but she just looks up at him calmly.

"Almost too beautiful to slay; besides - maybe he's a friendly dragon and he's just there to guard it."

Rick looks thoughtful.

"He's not friendly; he's just lying in wait. We should be prepared." He says.

_Oh she's beginning to see what he's suggesting to her here._

"Oh I see . . . and we'd be better prepared for a dragon lying in wait if one of us was officially a dragon slayer – huh Castle?"

The writer smiles brightly, and pulls the hand he's holding up to his lips, brushing an old fashioned kiss across her knuckles as he nods in agreement.

"For sure. An armed and dangerous 'official' dragon slayer . . . with a plucky sidekick of course, and naturally we wouldn't go looking for _all_ the dragons . . . "He trails off.

She squeezes his hand.

"Just maybe the smaller and more manageable ones . . . is that what you're suggesting Rick?"

Castle nods again.

"You're a cop Kate . . . and I think we both know now that you can be that – and still be this." He whispers, gathering her into his arms and holding her fiercely to him. He kisses her passionately then, with nothing held back; all his love and his confidence in both her and in them pouring into it, cascading her through her until he pulls back leaving her breathless.

He rests his forehead against hers.

"Its okay to tell me you want to go back . . . you'll have my support . . . you'll still have this . . . always – I promised."

She sighs softly against him.

"How did you even know that it's been on my mind?" She asks.

"I'm you're partner." He says simply and with a small shrug.

Kate pulls back and turns to look over at the amazing sand-dragon again . . . its sweet . . . God he's just so sweet sometimes – all the time really – when she lets him be.

"I'll call Ryan tonight . . . see what his take is on what Gates might say." She says.

"Good." The writer replies, before he lets go of her hand and pulls down the tarp between her creation and his. He yanks one of the tent poles he was using to hold the tarp up free – and glinting in the sunlight it kinda resembles a sword. He brandishes to her with a flourish.

"Slay it . . . come on Kate." He says with a laugh, "You can just stick it through his head . . . and I know you want too."

Beckett takes the offered implement, walks over to the dragon . . . raises the sharp pole high above her head in the air and then thrusts it down through the center of the sand-beasts body – makes it look like the creature is impaled onto the sand.

And it's strangely satisfying – she turns back towards Castle with a small smile.

"I totally win this competition by default Rick – because its pretty clear I'm the only one who actually built a sandcastle today."

Castle laughs again.

"Touché 'Detective'" He says deliberately, relieved and happy when it actually causes her small smile to widen. "Not like I'm not used to both meal _and _coffee duties anyways." He fake grumbles.

And Kate laughs.


End file.
